24
by The Shrubbery
Summary: Arthur and Ariadne still haven't even gotten to first base, so Eames decides to help them out by hand-cuffing them and putting them into a room together for twenty-four hours. Follow their painful twenty-four hours as they grow closer to each other.
1. Prologue

Eames is, to be put plainly, frustrated. Arthur, two months after the Fischer case, still won't even kiss that girl, Ariadne. He knows they're attracted to each other. _Really_ attracted. And they look good together. Both of them are mildly good-looking (of course not as good looking as he is) and they have a perfect spark that only Housewife and Maid could have. But how? How can he get them to second base?

Now he knows. He isn't a kind person. He isn't a gentle person, either. And he sure likes to get a kick out of Arthur and his misfortunes. So he wasn't going to just "talk" to them and make them "realize" their feelings. He was going to force it out of them. Maybe it was going a little bit too far for the girl—Ariadne, was it?—but Arthur...Oh, Arthur had been through much worse.

So that fine morning...

* * *

><p>"Eames! Eames, what are you—"<p>

"Aaaaaahhh! S—stop, let go of—"

"This is for your own good," he says as he locks the door. He winks at Arthur before closing the door. "Feel her up for me, will you, darling?" Then he's gone, leaving Arthur and Ariadne bright as tomatoes inside of the room.

"Please don't," Ariadne says after a while.

"I won't. It's more of an Eames thing, anyway." They sit in awkward silence by the door where they were pounding to get out.

_Click_.

"What was that?" Ariachne says, suddenly standing up.

"Ow, no need to hurt me in the process," Arthur says, rubbing his wrist.

"What—I didn't—" Ariachne looks down to her hands and gasps. Arthur looks down too and his eyes get wider.

Arthur looks up, frustrated, and begins muttering a variety of curses all directed at Eames. Ariachne looks down, wondering how long this was going to last.

_They were hand-cuffed together._

"I didn't believe the jackass would go this far..." Arthur mutters.

"You know, the jackass can hear you, you big arse." An intercom voice crackles to life as the two prisoners look up in surprise.

"Eames! You better get us out of here or I swear to God I'll—"

"—kill you?" Eames finishes for Arthur. "Now, now, darling, let's not get too violent here."

"You hand-cuffed me to my teammate and then locked us both up in a room! Gee, I don't think I'll be violent at all!" Ariadne is taken aback by Arthur's brash outburst, as she has never seen him so angry.

"That's the spirit, dear. Now, let's see, I was originally going to put you two in there for about ten hours, but I think I'll put you in for twenty-four instead because of Artie's little tantrum there."

"What?" Ariadne and Arthur exclaim at the same time.

"Let me remind you lovebirds that I would never do this if there was any other way," Eames says.

"Oh, please, you'd probably blow up the Eiffel Tower if there was a fly on there," Arthur retorts.

"Only if it were a housefly like you," Eames says. "Anywhoo, I'd also like to say that your attempts of escape will be in vain because there is no way out until the twenty-four hours are up. You can cook or sleep or whatever else you girls like do. I know Artie here likes to organize his underwear in his spare time." Arthur grimaces at this comment.

"While we're on the subject, there's only one bed," Eames says with a chortle. "So, feel free to be kinky, just not while I'm up here, Arthur."

"I must be dreaming..." Arthur says as he slumps down to the ground again, taking Ariadne with him.

"What an excellent premonition, Artie! Ta-ta, darlings, I'll see you in...twenty-four hours!"

_Click._

Eames is off the intercom. Finally...

"Goddamn it! When I get my hands on that filthy bast—"

"Language, Artie, language." ...Or not.

* * *

><p><strong>Well, this is one short chapter. Probably because it's just a prologue. Hoped you enjoyed! Review. Please.<strong>


	2. 24:00:00  Scheisse

**Thank you all so much for the very kind reviews! I am unworthy...**

**Wow, I just realized this is a heck of a lot like that TV show, _24_. ...Except this is about Inception. And being stuck in a room hand-cuffed to someone else. Okay, other than the name, nothing is similar.**

**This chapter has swearing in it. And since it is rated T, I'm not censoring or bleeping. Tough luck.  
><strong>

* * *

><p>22:59:33<br>REALITY 

* * *

><p>Eames skips happily down the corridor when he suddenly bumps into Yusuf.<p>

"What are you so happy about?" Yusuf asks him, picking up the equipment he dropped.

"None of your bloody business," he says giddily, passing him by, not bothering to help.

Yusuf sighs, "It's not like I actually expected an answer..." He clears his throat. "I just wanted you to know that the sedative I gave Arthur and Ariadne..."

"Hmm, yeah?"

"...it's kind of unstable. I haven't finished its testing yet." Eames pauses and turns to Yusuf.

"So? Why do I care?"

"I mean, they might not get out in twenty-four hours. And if they dream, the Room might shatter and they'll both be lost in Limbo. Perhaps forever." Eames gasps with fake concern.

"Goody for me and for them, they can get to get to _third_ base before I die!"

"It's not funny, Eames, they could be lost for forever in there, and when they get back we'll have another Mal. Or Mals." Yusuf sighs again. "Not that you care."

"Not really. Artie's smart. He'll figure it out."

"And if they don't?"

"...Let's just say they'll have all the time in the world to get...sexy."

* * *

><p>23:56:63<br>UNKNOWN  
>The Room - Table<p>

* * *

><p>Arthur and Ariadne sit in the bare table in the middle of the room. Around them is a kitchen in the upper left corner, a twin-sized bed in the upper right, a toilet in the lower left corner and a bath in the lower right.<p>

"Well, this certainly is a predicament," Ariadne finally says.

"I am so sorry this happened to you, Ariadne," Arthur begins. "Usually Eames doesn't go this far as to kidnapping people and having another person dragged into this. If this were just me, I wouldn't have gotten so angry, he does this a lot but I never knew he would actually...I really hope you can forgive—"

Ariadne's hand-cuffed hand touches Arthur's hand-cuffed one. "Let me stop you before you start babbling nonsense. It's fine. Plus, it's not like we have an alternative," she says. Arthur smiles.

Arthur clears his throat. "So, we're handcuffed to each other in a room," Arthur says. "Probably the most awkward thing since sliced bread."

"I'm pretty sure the quote goes, 'the _best_ thing since sliced bread', Arthur," Ariadne corrects. "Unless you think sliced bread is awkward."

"It can be when dressed in lingerie," he replies.

"No, that would be called _sexy_," Ariadne says, waggling her finger disapprovingly.

"Fine. But it doesn't change that this is awkward." Ariadne nods her head tentatively to Arthur's comment.

"Plus, it's not like you're not always around me anyway," Ariadne says. Arthur's smile suddenly curls down.

"Is that what you—You think—" Arthur is at a loss for words. "Ariadne, I am always around you because I need to protect you."

Ariadne smirks. "Oh yeah? And why is that?"

Arthur suddenly blushes. "Cobb told me that I needed to," he says simply.

"Oh, come on, that's a lie and we both know," Ariadne says. "Tell me the truth." Her hand slides up to grip his arm.

Arthur looks about to crack before returning to his normal self. "...That is the truth."

Ariadne sighs and her hand retracts. She puts on her pouty face. "Fine. Be that way."

"Ariadne..." Arthur gives up. "It's because..." Ariadne looks up expectantly with big eyes. "...of your puppy eyes...?"

Ariadne rolls her eyes. "Still lying." Then she flashes her puppy eyes. "Although, maybe partly because of it, hmm?"

"D-don't...You know I can't—Puppy dog eyes...Please don't—"

"C'mon, Arthur! Pleeease?"

"Hmm...what was the question?"

"Oh, forget it," Ariadne says, exasperated. She looks up to where both of them believe Eames should be. "D'you mind if I swear?"

"Yes, I would," he says and Ariadne frowns. "But it wouldn't really be called swearing if nobody understood it, right? Because swearing is society's answer for frustration and therefore if society does not recognize it as a 'swear' then technically no real harm and/or 'swearing' has been done, right?" Arthur says with a grin.

"Ah, that's one of the reasons I love you so much, Artie," Ariadne says. She takes a deep breath—"SCHEEEEEISSE!"

"Oh, come on, Ariadne, you can do better than that. I can understand German well enough to know that you said...'crap'."

"Shit, to be exact," Ariadne corrects.

"Ah-ah," Arthur warns, waving his index finger. "Remember, society can recognize it—you swore."

"Are you the society we're talking about here?" Ariadne asks. "Because you know, like, fifty different languages."

Arthur smirks. "Sixty. So have fun trying to out-swear my brain."

Ariadne rolls her eyes. "_C'est des conneries_."

"You mean the situation Eames put us into or this game we're playing?"

"_Les deux_," Ariadne replies. "Both."

"Too bad I understood that that was French for 'This is bullshit'."

"Darn, you got me."

Ariadne pauses for a moment before Arthur says, "Wait, new rule. You have to tell me where you learned or heard of the swear."

"Fine. Hmm, I learned _scheisse_ from the _Bourne Identity_. That French-ish German-ish lady."

"Marie?"

"Yes! Her! I think she's really ugly. Especially when she's making out with Matt Damon."

"Really? I don't think she's that bad looking," Arthur says.

"Oh, please. When compared with that smexy hottie with a six-pack Damon...Yeah, she's ugly."

"'Smexy hottie with a six-pack'? Wow, he seems a lot like me," Arthur says with a straight face.

Ariadne laughs. "Nah, you're a more cute, huggable stick-in-the-mud neat-freak teddy bear. In a suit."

"...That is also a smexy hottie with a six-pack underneath all the cuteness," Arthur says.

Ariadne laughs again. "And as for the French bullshit, this guy at the college taught me and some friends. He also taught me how to french for real."

"How to french? You mean the language?"

"No, silly, the kiss." Ariadne waits for his reaction.

Arthur does a spit take with only his spit. "He _what?_"

Ariadne giggles. "It was nothing, only Tutorial Part 1."

"You mean there was a Part 2?"

Ariadne frowns. "Yeah, but then he stood me up for my best friend, so we called it off." Arthur scoots his chair a little bit and grabs a napkin from the kitchen counter top. He hands it to Ariadne. "Thanks. It's a good thing Eames got these longer handcuffs and small room, or I would have had to stand up to get a napkin with you."

"Don't be lazy, Ariadne," Arthur says, taking another napkin and two muffins. "There's nothing wrong with exercising a little bit."

Ariadne takes one of Arthur's muffin and bites into it. "Hmm, chocolate chip." She uses her napkin to dab at her lip a little bit. "But seriously, at least he didn't get us cuffs the cops use to arrest people."

"I suppose so." Arthur sighs. "Can we carry on?" he says with his mouth full.

"Let me see..._Est Dampnare._"

"Latin. 'Damn it'."

"Damn it, indeed. Learned that at the university when we were studying Roman pillars and architecture and my buddies and I were fooling around on Google Translate. It really isn't reliable, though."

"Very true," Arthur agrees.

"..._Sseulegi_."

"I can immediately tell that is Eastern and...Korean. I think it's...'crap'?"

Ariadne sighs. "Correct." She hesitates as she attempts to remember the memory connecting with it. Her eyes finally light up with recognition. "Oh, yeah. We had a transfer from Korea and she took ALL my classes. She also used to flunk a lot of them, so we heard that _a lot_."

Arthur smirks. "Did you flunk any lessons?"

"If I did, I don't think Miles would've introduced me to Cobb, would he?"

"I guess not." Arthur looks off into the distance, his expression growing somber.

"Although sometimes I wonder...What if Miles didn't choose me? What would have happened?"

"Cobb wouldn't have done inception, he wouldn't have gotten rid of Mal, wouldn't have gone back to his family," he looks into Ariadne's eyes, "and I wouldn't have met you."

* * *

><p><strong>Good chapter? Okay chapter? Bad chapter? I can only know if you review and tell me!<strong>

**However, I feel like it seems a little rushed at the end, I might rewrite this later. /sigh**


	3. 23:00:00 Custard

**And I'm back. Again. Sorry if the last chapter didn't make any sense...I feel like the last one was a little bit rushed. I believe A/A's relationship is a slow and gradual one. It should be a sweet but painfully slow process. So yeah, I slowed down on this one.  
><strong>

* * *

><p>22:59:33<br>REALITY  
>Yusuf's Workhouse - Laboratory<p>

* * *

><p>"Have you checked on them yet?" Yusuf asks Eames, pouring a white liquid into a blue one. The result is fizzing and a weak crackling.<p>

"What do you think?" Eames asks back. He sees a cat on the ground and kicks it roughly. "Why do you have so many bloody cats?"

"They help me think," Yusuf says, taking another white liquid and pouring it into the previous fluid. "And you didn't answer my question. Did you check on them? Are they stable?"

"Yes, they're bloody well stable," Eames grumbles, taking another cat off of him. "Why the hell do these cats keep coming on me?"

"They like you," Yusuf answers, cuddling one before returning to his compounds. He thinks a moment before stopping his mixing and picking up one of the smaller kittens. "This one is British."

"Oh, is he?" Eames says, suddenly taking interest and taking the kitten. The kitten scrambles out of Eames' hands and scurries up to his shoulder. "Quick little bloke..." He nuzzles him. "...I think I like him." Then he jumps down and chases the other cats. Most of the young ones stay behind to hear him meow. "And he has a way with the women. What's his name?"

Yusuf smiles and then says, "Eames."

* * *

><p>22:57:78<br>UNKNOWN  
>The Room - Kitchen<p>

* * *

><p>"It's been an hour," Arthur says, checking his watch.<p>

"Has it?" Ariadne asks, taking a plate from the cupboard and putting it on the table. She takes another plate and does the same. "Hmm...Now that I think about it...yeah, that seems about right."

"You hungry?" he asks. "There's a stove and pots and pans and different ingredients and even...recipes?"

"Why do I feel like Eames is setting us up?" Ariadne asks.

"He probably is, but I'm hungry and that's not something Eames can control." He looks through the stack of recipes.

"Most of these requires two fluent, flexible hands, Arthur."

"...Which we don't have. Why don't we just have a muffin?"

_Click._

"No, love, I'm going to confiscate your muffins. You have to cook something," Eames says over the intercom. A faint meow is heard.

"How the hell are we supposed to cook something when we only have control over one of our hands and the other one is someone else's?" Arthur exclaims.

"I dunno. You're a big boy, Artie, I know you can figure something out. I'll give you two a sticker when you're done~!" Eames says. Static filters through the air. "Hey, have you done what I suggested, pumpkin?"

"...Eames. If I ever did that, I would get arrested and put into jail for my whole lifetime and if I happen to come out, I'll come out like you...so...no. I haven't," Arthur says.

"What did he tell you to do?" Ariadne asks Arthur. Arthur looks at her and then cringes. Ariadne gets the message.

"Do you two love-birds have some kind of secret language I don't know about, now?" Eames says. "Artie, you better tell Uncle Eames afterwards."

"You are not my Uncle! Go away!" Arthur says.

"So childish, I guess you'll always be Uncle's little Artie, after all." Eames sighs. "I'll be taking my leave now, don't let this opportunity get away. I know you can't see the wood for the trees, sometimes, Art."

_Click_.

"'Can't see the wood for the trees'? What does that even mean?" Arthur asks.

"It's a British idiom stating that you can't see the big picture because you fret too much over the small details," Ariadne answers. She laughs. "No offense, but I have to agree with Eames on that one."

"Shut up," he grumbles. He flips through the recipes again. "We can make...pudding?"

"What kind of pudding?" asks Ariadne.

"Just...normal pudding," Arthur replies.

"Oh, that's boring!" she says. "But fine, I don't mind."

Arthur nods and then reads out loud the ingredients. "One incredibly sexy British man whose name starts with E and ends with S, one also somewhat sexy Parisian who has interests in building, and one semi-ugly prick who likes to dress like he's about to go to a funeral. Make the prick and Parisian have se—EAMES!"

Ariadne, who was a bright as a tomato suddenly was no match for the purpleness of Arthur, who looked like an eggplant.

_Click_.

"What is it, sweetheart? I have an orgy coming up in two minutes." Arthur, too flared up from the recipe, ignores the urge to gag at the orgy comment.

"Eames. Why the _hell_ does the recipe for pudding involve R-rated content?"

"I thought you two would've liked some bonding," Eames answers with a chuckle.

"But not involving _actual_ bondage! What...what is this? OHMYGODEAMESWHATTHEHELL—"

"It's okay, Artie, you learn something new everyday."

"EAAAAAAAMES!" Arthur screams on the top of his lungs.

"I'm actually really surprised it took you that long to scream my name like that. Now let's see how long it takes for you to scream Ariadne's. For a different reason."

Arthur takes a deep breath. "Eames, when my twenty-four hours are up, I will personally see that I destroy your life, no matter what it takes."

"As long as you destroy it with Ari."

Arthur grits his teeth and his fingers curl up into fists. "I reckon I shouldn't read the recipes," Ariadne says.

"You reckon right, dear," Eames says. "Ta-ta."

_Click_.

"Arthur...?" Ariadne says cautiously.

Arthur seems to not hear her. "Okay...maybe sometimes I want to kiss her...Kiss her on the cheek...On the forehead...Especially on the lips...Kiss her lightly...Okay, hard...And then occasionally french her...And maybe have this incredibly strong urge to do it again...and again...but he didn't have to go that far..."

"Arthur?" Ariadne asks again, slightly scared.

Arthur is in his own little world. Muttering. "...And then maybe I have fantasies about her at night...About her flowy, silky hair...Her almond, sparkly eyes...her perfectly shaped nose...Her delicate hands...Her smooth, smells-good skin...her tender, soft lips...Okay, I am a man so breasts come in a lot...and I can't help but stare at her sometimes..."

Ariadne gives up and just listens intently.

Finally, he bursts. "BUT NO WAY IN _HELL_ AM I LETTING YOU FEEL HER UP BEFORE I DO, EAMES!"

He turns to Ariadne.

"Did I say that all of that out loud?"

"...Yeah."

"Oh."

"Okay."

There is an awkward silence as the two stand in the small kitchen.

"Did you mean it?" Ariadne finally blurts out, breaking the strained silence.

"Mean what?" Arthur asks.

"Did you mean...everything? M-my hands and my eyes..." Ariadne fidgets with a strand of hair, "...and everything else? Did you mean it?"

"...Yes. Every last word." And through the awkward tension, Arthur can see Ariadne smile. Just a little bit.

* * *

><p>22:32:55<br>UNKNOWN  
>The Room - The Kitchen<p>

* * *

><p>"No, no, no, Arthur! You have to melt the chocolate first! <em>Then <em>you put it in."

"I've never made custard before, Ariadne! So stop yelling at me!"

"I'm not yelling at you! Just...microwave the stupid chocolate already. No! At medium heat!"

"I'm about to, you idiot!"

"Don't call me an idiot! Arthur...no! _Stir it!_"

"You told me to beat it!"

"Now you have to stir it!"

"But..."

"No buts! Whisk in the cream and milk!"

"What cream and milk?"

"The one you boiled on the stove, idiot!"

"You're the idiot!"

"Aaaaggh!"

Ariadne was frustrated. Apparently, Arthur could name 568 digits of pi, but he couldn't make custard. In fact, he could make pudding, pie, cakes, souffles, a variety of foreign dishes, and pizza...but he just couldn't make custard.

"Why couldn't we have just stuck with the muffins?" grumbles Arthur.

"Because they were confiscated," Ariadne says, losing her patience. "I would've just made them myself, but since that moron Eames chained us together, _you're_ the one with the right hand and I have the left one." Ariadne sighs in defeat. "Did you preheat the oven?"

"Yes, _Mother_, I did," Arthur says. "I know how to cook."

"Just not _custard_," Ariadne mutters. "Here, look. There are three mixtures," she says, willing herself to be patient with Arthur, "there's the one with the egg yolk, salt, and sugar. Let's name him Eames, okay?" Arthur, exhausted, nods ever so slightly, taking interest. "We also have sugar and cream with vanilla. Let's name him Arthur, all right?" Arthur nods again. "And the last one is the melted chocolate...Cobb." Arthur nods.

"So, now, let's say Eamesina the II and Cobb Jr. become a couple," Ariadne says, unaware of the real Arthur who was giving off a faint shade of red. She pours "Cobb" into "Eamesina". She beats them together with her left hand (which is not cuffed). "They have a daughter named Ariadne the III Jr."

"Wait, why a daughter?"

"Because I can make custard and you can't." Arthur frowns. "I'm kidding, Arthur. _Fine_, we can make Ariadne their son." Arthur nods in agreement to Ariadne's plan. "So, somehow, Ariadne starts seeing Arthur."

"OH-kay. We can make Ariadmes back into a girl," Arthur says. Ariadne smiles.

"As I thought," she says. "So, Ariadne begins seeing Arthur. Just a little bit at a time. Five minutes here, five minutes there. But they gradually grow closer." She tips a little bit of "Arthur" into "Ariadne" and whisks it. She tips another little bit and whisks it again. She repeats this for many times. "Until finally..." She tips in the last little bit.

"...They're complete."

* * *

><p><strong>Slow enough? Probably not.<strong>

**Actually, it seems kind of weird Ariadne is the one flirting with Arthur at the custard part. Shouldn't it be the other way around? Whatever.  
><strong>


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